Confusion
by Periwinkle Watson
Summary: They forced his one true love into an insane asyllum and all Troy could do was watch. He thought this was the best thing for her. The only problem was: she wasn't crazy. She was right. And now, she's back. AU. TxS
1. Hopelessness

**Hey y'all. **

I made a few changes to this chapter. 1st: All the italics are in the past (of course) and will still remain from Troy's POV. 2nd: The present though has been changed from 1st person to third. It makes it a little easier on me to be able to include parts with Shar, where Troy is not available to see. Understand?

So, please enjoy!

And review. :)

-_sullenxgirl_

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**Chapter One: Hopelessness**

_I pressed my shaking fingers to the wall of glass._

_I spread them out into a fan, laying my forehead down, eyes flooded with regret. She crawled over, and put her own hands up against mine, and even though human touch was cut off, I could feel her warmth. She smiled through her tear-filled eyes. I couldn't even look at her. This was all my fault. An ocean of tears submerged my world, blurring everything together. But she needed me. I couldn't reject her. _

_At last, my eyes met her deep, dark, and lonely ones._

"_I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." I whispered._

"_It's okay," she mouthed, tears running down her cheeks._

_I was sobbing, shoulders shaking uncontrollably. I collapsed onto my knees, head hanging low in desolation. She tapped the glass. She needed me to stay with her. She was the one locked up, and yet, she found the strength to bring me out of despair. She was too good for me, under all circumstances. And I didn't deserve her. _

_Honing in all my dissipating strength, I finally lifted my eyes. Crying with a sorry smile plastered on her face, she blew her hot breath onto the glass, and traced a heart in the steam._

"_I love you," she mouthed._

_I tried to tell her the same. But then, a hand rested on her shoulder, and he lifted her up. He was taking her away. I pounded my fists against the glass. No, he couldn't do that! Please, come back. Come back. But she submissively followed him, as he led her away. All I could do was watch. I was weeping, and banging on the glass, willing her to return. People were pushing and grabbing me, doctors, visitors, nurses, but all I could see was her. _

"_Shar! I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I love you!" I wailed._

_With one last fleeting look, her head turned to me, and she pressed a hand to her heart, squeezing her eyes shut. And then, she was gone. She had disappeared from my life forever._

In a fright, he awoke, breathless.

His eyes darted around the dark room as his teeth chattered and the bare skin on his arms erupted into goosebumps. He tried to calm his racing heart. It was only a dream. A reoccurring dream. A terrifying memory of reality. But a dream, nonetheless. Still, his chest heaved in and out, tired and reluctant to supply the lungs with oxygen. Swallowing the lump growing in the back of his throat, Troy threw the covers off, and sat on the edge of the bed, head buried in his hands.

It'd been three years.

And he was still caught in the past.

It was too hard to let it go. She was the only one he'd ever loved. She was his perfect fit, made for him in every way. And because of his ignorance, he let her slip through his fingers. His life was mercilessly ripped out from under his feet, and all that remained of him was left in the dust. How could he get over something like that? If his restless spirit were to answer, the reply would be: You don't. And he couldn't.

He remembered the scene so clearly. He closed his eyes, and tried to rid himself of the horrid memory, but it was of no use. That day would forever be ingrained into his mind, unbreakable and immortal it remained. The guilt and sorrow filled Troy's chest. He rose from the bed, angry, and shuffled out to the kitchen. He flicked on the light, squinting from the sudden glare, and pulled out a chair from the square, poker table in the center.

Glancing across it, he noticed his haphazardly placed cell phone sitting in the middle, face down. Hesitantly, he picked it up. But he was only fooling himself—this he knew. There was no one to call. No shoulder to lean on. He was friendless and alone. But hopelessness has a way of dragging its desperate, distraught victims into believing there's always an exception. And at this moment, hope was all he had.

Troy began to scroll through all eleven of his telephone numbers. He checked off each impossible choice in his head, until he quickly came to the end of the list, and his eyes laid on a singular name. He stared at it, throat closing up. It was his last resort.

_Call her._

Troy scoffed at my own injurious thoughts. There _was_ a shoulder out there. Yet, one he knew full well not to lay his head on. But the fact of the matter was: he needed someone. Anyone. He needed Gabriella.

Before he could rethink the rash decision, he hit her number, and pressed the phone to his ear. Its hollow tone rang loudly. Anxiously, Troy tapped his fingers on the surface of the table, already regretting his decision. He seemed far too good at that. On the fourth ring, he sighed, and almost hung up, when at last, it was answered.

"Hello?" whispered a groggy voice. Only, it was not the voice he was expecting. Or the voice he wanted to hear. He cleared his tightening throat.

"Can I speak to Gabby please?" Troy croaked. There was an awkward silence, where there was only breathing left to hang. Troy spoke up once more. "Its, um—"

"I know who it is," the voice brazenly snapped. Troy lowered his head in shame. _Just hang up now_. But an invisible restraint refused to let him surrender. "You really have a lot of nerve, don't you, Bolton? ...Did you honestly think just because you're going through a tough time, we would forget everything you've done?"

Hot, angry tears welled in the corner of Troy's eyes.

"I'm sorry, Ryan, okay? I'm sorry. I'm sorry for...," beginning to choke up, he stopped mid-sentence, wiping at his eyes.

"You can't even say it, can you?" His incredulous tone sliced into Troy. He shook his head. Oh, what was he thinking? Why did he call the wife of the brother of the woman he sent to the psyche ward? God, what was wrong with him? All he'd wanted was to gain some kind of comfort from an old friend. But this was far from it.

Sighing, Troy spoke up, "Ryan, please. Can I just speak to—?"

"No, as a matter of fact, you _can't_ talk to Gabriella." A single tear dripped down his cheek with wet remorse. "The only word that should come out of your mouth—"

"Ryan!" interrupted a familiar voice. Startled, Troy closed his mouth. He could hear shuffling and Ryan sigh heavily. "Let me handle this." As Troy sat, motionless, clutching his knee, the receptor was transferred between hands. Finally, she came on.

"Hi, Troy," a very tired Gabriella said softly. Troy sniffed, and tried to disguise the strain in his tone of voice.

"Hey—look, I'm sorry for calling this early, I didn't mean to—"

"I know, sweetie." She let out a slightly irritated, but consenting sigh. "Just talk to me."

Unable to voice all that lay heavily on his shoulders, Troy remained speechless. It was almost as if he had forgotten the entire reason for this call. He let out a shaky breath. And that was all Gabriella needed to understand the situation at hand.

"You had the dream again, didn't you?" she asked.

"Yeah." he whispered. Neither of them spoke for a few moments. Then, finally, Gabriella broke the silence.

"I know it's hard to believe, especially right now, but there _will_ come a day when you can forgive yourself."

"I-I can't. Ryan—"

"This isn't about Ryan. This is about you, Troy." A pause and then, "You did what you thought was _right_. And that's what counts."

Troy sighed, soaking in her words, despite the intense disbelief he carried in his heart. No matter what Gabriella said, he knew the truth. He would never forgive himself. Ever.

Sighing, Gabriella said, "Troy, honey, it's really late; you and I both need to get back to bed. Why don't I take you to work tomorrow, and you can talk to me then, okay?"

He nodded. "Okay."

"Goodnight."

"Night."

He hung up the phone. And began to cry.


	2. Guilt

**Afternote: I finished the second half of this chapter. I decided to add it as Chapter 3: PART 2. So please ignore all the messages below! And go read the second half!!!**

Also, I just changed the name of this chapter from Sympathy to Guilt. I thought that fit the content better.

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**Alright, so, this is not the entire chapter. Meaning: I will add more to this. But I just wanted to post it now so you guys wouldn't think I gave up on this story. :) So I'll probably have the rest up by the end of this week/weekend. **

**Thanx for reading!**

**And review!**

**-_BeautifulDanger_**

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**Chapter Two: Guilt**

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The next morning, Troy was rudely awakened.

Last night when Gabby and he ended their fruitless conversation, he broke down. His deeply entrenched dam, an endless body of heartache enclosed within, had suddenly cracked. He was powerless to stop it; he just gave in. And let the tears flow. It was the hardest he'd cried since … since he lost her. And slowly, as the well dried up, he dozed off.

He'd cried himself to sleep.

To be more specific, he cried himself into a very _uncomfortable_ sleep on a flimsy, hard wood table in the middle of an ice cold kitchen at four o'clock in the snow-slashed morning. Then, when his seven-year-old alarm clock—the one he's had since he was thirteen—resounded quietly from the bedroom, it took him a full five minutes to orientate himself, and pull his head out of the fog. Slurping up the puddle of drool dripping from his lips, his droopy eyes fluttered open. Confused and irritated, he glanced over his surroundings, wondering what he was doing in the kitchen. And more importantly, why he wasn't in his nice, warm bed.

It was in that lost moment that his fingers reflexively twitched and he felt a surge of cold metal on his nerves. He glanced down to his arm that lay across the table, numb and tingling, and spotted the cell phone clutched in his hand.

Oh, yeah. He sighed, reliving everything from last night, and pushed himself out from the table. He had no time to mope about; he had to get ready for work.

If it wasn't one thing he slaved away at, it was the other.

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Gabriella honked.

Glancing one last time in the mirror, he grabbed his jacket, swung it over his arms, and headed for the door. But as he reached out, his hand hovered over the knob, poised mid-air. His stomach churned like a school-boy paralyzed by the butterflies in his belly. This was the first time in a long while that he'd witnessed Gabby's presence. He'd talked with her on the phone a few times before, but never actually _seen_ her. But today, he would finally get his chance. And he didn't know why, but he was nervous about it.

Chastising himself for the silliness of it all, Troy finally just yanked open the door, and stepped into the strip of landing descending into a set of stairs. Closing the door behind him, he fumbled with his key to lock it, completely oblivious to the woman standing right behind him, watching his every move.

"Troy."

He jumped clean out of his skin and spun around. He came face-to-face with his strict, full-figured, black landlord: Taylor Mckessie. He let out a breath of air. Taylor arched a brow at his odd behavior.

"Hi. Sorry about last month's rent, I promise I'll have it—"

"Don't worry about it."

Troy was shocked. This was coming from the woman that came barricading into his apartment at three in the morning—he cursed himself later for forgetting to lock the door—just to demand the five dollars he'd accidentally left off the rent. This from the woman who revoked his washer/dryer privileges because of a complaint from an elderly neighbor that found his misplaced boxer shorts and kindly tacked them to his door. And now, she was telling him _not_ to worry about his overdue expenses?

Flabbergasted, Troy stared at her with his mouth hanging open, eyes dashing side-to-side in a confused manner.

"That's not what I'm here for," Taylor continued when it was apparent that Troy had been rendered mute.

"Oh," he whispered. Well, he thought, this could either mean something _really good_ or _really_ _bad. _Troy released the knob he was squeezing and shoved his hands in his pockets. Gabby honked the horn again.

"Last night, I received a few complaints that your neighbors heard a very … _intense_ crying throughout the evening, and from what I could decipher, it was coming from your apartment," she relayed to him professionally.

Okay, someone needed a serious slap in the face. What, now he was not even allowed to cry? This was ridiculous, not to mention humiliating! Troy's face hardened dramatically.

"Look, Ms. Mckessie, I don't know how or who thought they could just—"

"Troy," she said over him, so that he stopped his speech. "I … I just wanted to say … that I'm here … if you need to talk."

Troy blinked, his jaw clenched. She was offering him her sympathy.

"There is _nothing_ to talk about."

And he threw it in her face.

He dashed down the stairs, and out onto the sidewalk, not even bothering to glance back at the dejected expression laying heavily on his landlord's face.

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_Most boys my age would be scared of this. Terrified, even. But I wasn't. I was jumping out of my skin in anticipation. The excitement swelled in my chest, and I could barely contain my smile. It was seething through the seams of my straight-lined lips. Because I knew. I knew she was the one._

_Shar, my exceedingly intuitive girl, caught on right away. _

_We sat in the front seats of my car, with the top down, watching the sun slowly dip into the lake. We hadn't done this in a while, and now with the suppressed smile on my features, she knew something was up. Finally, she looked at me with a knowing grin._

"_I __**will**__ pry this out of you, no matter __**how**__ hard you try to pretend you __**don't**__ have something up your sleeve," she said with a smile, rolling her eyes. A pause and then, she finished with, "So which will it be: …the easy way or the hard?"_

"_That depends on how much you want to know," I said with a flirty grin, cocking a brow._

"_Hmmm, I guess then I'll just find __**something else**__ to occupy my time," she said, sticking her nose in the air as she turned her face to the wind, blocking me from sight. I laughed and nudged her arm._

"_Oh come on, I know you wanna know." She refused to look at me, a smug smile playing on her lips. _

"_No, but it seems you desperately want to tell me." Sighing, I turned away from her, defeated._

"_Well, I guess it's just you and me then, Troy." I said to myself._

_In a much deeper voice I began, "So what is this evil trick you have up your sleeve?" Then I answered in my normal tone, carrying on this one-sided conversation with me and Troy 2, while Shar watched amused._

"_Oh, no trick. No sleeve. I was just thinking about the future."_

"_Ah. What about the future, Troy?"_

"_Well, Troy, I…," I took a deep breath and stared into Shar's hazel eyes, "…I was hoping I wouldn't have to live alone anymore." _

_Shar's eyes glistened and softened into a sad, sorry expression. She sighed and lowered her face into her hands, shaking her head in dismay._

"_Troy, please don't do this to me…"_

_Sharpay Evans was my good girl. She took my sad story of a life and turned it into something worthwhile. I couldn't care less about my existence until she came along and turned all I knew upside down, and flipping my thoughts right-side up. Shar acted out a cliché and made a bad boy go good. She had morals. She had mercy. And kindness. And I had nothing. But I learned from her example._

_She thought she knew what I was asking._

_She thought I just wanted us to move in with each other._

_But she completely underestimated her hard work._

_She underestimated me._

_Before she could say anymore, I pulled out a copper coil I bent into a ring shape in my Dad's mechanic shop, gently took her hand and slipped it onto her finger. Shar sniffled and looked up, finding a smile suffocating every other feature on my face and an engagement ring on her thin finger. She started crying. But they were tears of joy._

"_Sharpay Amanda Evans, will you marry me?" I lifted her fingers to my lips and kissed them softly._

_She nodded profusely, too drenched in tears to even speak._

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The cold morning air hit Troy hard.

It was as if the wind slapped him across the face, sucking all breath and existence from his lungs. Quickly, as he exited the apartment building and spotted Gabriella's silver mini-van, Troy tugged his thin jacket closer to his body and shoved his bare hands into his pockets.

**[For the second half, go to Chapter 3: PART 2!]**

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**Please review. They encourage me to keep writing. And I _know_ you want to read more of this. But I could be wrong. Of course, I'll never know unless ... you review! :)**

**-BD**


	3. PART 2

**I'm actually really proud of myself. I got this finished sooner than I said I would and I honestly thought it would take me longer than expected. But it didn't! So I have reason to smile. lol.**

**Also, I started adding a new feature in my profile. I put up a soundtrack for my different stories. Basically songs I listened to when I wrote it, and what partly inspired them. So, please check that out. I will put up a new song for every chapter.**

**Please enjoy!**

P.S. I changed the name of this chapter (both parts). I think it fits a little better. :)

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**Chapter 2: PART 2**

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The cold morning air hit Troy hard.

It was as if the wind slapped him across the face, sucking all breath and existence from his lungs. Quickly, as he exited the apartment building and spotted Gabriella's silver mini-van, Troy tugged his thin jacket closer to his body and shoved his bare hands into his pockets. His eyes grazed over her shadowy figure from the back window of the car. He swallowed hard, preparing himself to overcome this difficult step.

Finally, he reached the passenger door, and before his nerves could tease him any further, he yanked it open. Gabriella turned her head and smiled. But Troy, his mouth hit the floor. Speechless, he slowly sat down in the seat, eyes still glued to her. Her belly. It was ... big. Really big. She was ... pregnant.

Gabby put the van in gear and pulled away from the curb. And still, he could not take his gaze from her. He was shell-shocked. He could barely put his thoughts in order. Wh—how? Oh, jeez. He knew _how_, what he wanted to know was how had this been edited out their conversations? What had changed between them that kept this beautiful detail from his knowledge? Finally, his throat opened up, allowing him to ask the question floating around in his mind.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked in a soft whisper, afraid of the answer, eyebrows curved sadly. Gabriella let out a sigh under her breath.

"You never asked." She glanced over at him and shrugged.

Though it was not her intention, she shoveled on another layer of guilt to Troy's shoulder. He had been so caught up in his own little world, he hadn't even bothered to check in on hers. And he thought she was his best friends. But best friends share an unselfish bond—something he now realized was out of his grasp. Troy turned his face from her in shame, deciding it would be better if he stared out the window instead. Tiny ice crystals flittered across his vision, stopping their journey only to quickly melt away.

"So...," Gabriella began, eyes attached to the slushy road ahead, "let's hear it."

"There's nothing to hear," he said, absentmindedly playing with a thread from the hole in his jeans. "Nothing to tell."

"If there was nothing to tell, we wouldn't be here right now."

That was certainly true, but that didn't mean Troy wanted to tell all that was seizing control of his heart and mind. It hurt. A lot. Too much, really. He knew, deep down, he shouldn't have agreed to let her drive him. It would just bring back three years worth of burried memories and regrets. And that might just suffocate any other emotion left inside of him. Troy closed his eyes.

"I'm just tired, is all," he lied.

"The daily grind got you down, huh?" she said with a smile, glancing to him for confirmation. Troy let out a fake chuckle, refusing to remove his eyes, or fingers for that matter, from his knees.

"Yeah, something like that."

"Hmmm." Gabriella tapped her fingers on the steering wheel in a pattern that screamed distress. Troy noticed but kept silent. She sighed a few times, concentrating on the path to Al's Diner for as long as she could. But he knew something was bothering her and there was no denying it. Finally, they came to a red light, and Gabby gently laid her warm hand on his jittery knee. She gazed over at him with eyes that said she knew everything he was not telling her. There was no judgment residing within her.

Troy could not look at her without tearing up so he forced his eyes to stay put.

"You can tell me anything, Troy. You know that, don't you?"

"Mm-hmm," he mumbled, nodding rather than using words, for fear that if he heard his cracked, vulnerable shread of a voice he would crumble.

The van moved forward. Gabriella's hand began to slip away, but Troy instantly pulled it back, squeezing her fingers harder than his expressionless face would tell. Thankfully, she said nothing, leaving him some sort of dignity, and let him gather whatever comfort he could. Finally, Troy's smelly place of employment came into view. Gabriella parked perfectly, and shut the engine off. Troy's heart was in throat.

"So, did you want me—?"

"Did I ... do the right thing?" He couldn't help himself. It'd been weighing on him for so long, he needed an escape so badly. So he took the only thing he had. Finally, Troy looked at Gabriella for the ever awaited answer.

Gabby sighed. She tried to find the truth inside herself, but quickly found there was no such thing.

"I don't know."

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It was 4:55. His shift was almost over.

God, he was so tired. Everyday Troy worked his life away at this horribly greasy, awfully sleazy diner for a wage nowhere near acceptable. It barely covered the bills, let alone the rent. He hated it here. And he hated _everyone_ here.

Except for Amy.

"I'm clocking out, Bobby!" Troy hollered to the kitchen.

Amy was the sweet, cute brunette that worked the same shift as he. She always had something nice to say, even about the _un_-nicest of people. She was his personal buffer. Amy kept him from ripping the throat out of their wretched boss. She practically held the place together. Without Amy, he would be a hot mess, customers would greatly diminish, and Bobby would have fired Troy two seconds after he hired him. It was just nice to have someone sane to talk to throughout the draining day.

"No you ain't! I still own you for five whole minutes!" Bobby yelled back, as he flipped another slimy burger. Troy rolled his eyes and let out a very audiable sigh. Amy, who was serving coffee and pie to three elderly women, chuckled softly, and glanced over her shoulder to smile sweetly at a ticked Troy. Troy flashed a weak smile back.

Troy stepped out from behind the counter, and tore off his dingy apron, hanging it up on his personal hook. Amy watched him intently. With her eyes fixated on the shapely man tousling his messy hair, she did not pay any attention to the coffee she was pouring. Suddenly, Mama Maria's coffee cup overflowed and spilled off the table.

"Oh my goodness, I am so sorry Maria!" Amy cried, red-faced and highly embarrasssed. "Oh, here here, let me clean this up. Oh, I'm such a klutz," she babbled on.

Troy noticed the upheaval and raced over to help her clean up the spill. Just as Amy spun around to grab a towel from the kitchen, Troy popped up behind her and they bumped into each other. If her face wasn't pink then, it sure was now.

"Oh, ha, sorry," she squeaked. Troy laughed.

"It's fine, Amy," he said gently, holding her pale arm and tugging her aside to better reach the spill. She couldn't keep her eyes off of him. And she definitely couldn't wipe the smile off of her face.

"Okay, ladies, how about a box of cookies on me?" Troy asked with a broad smile, making the older women's hearts flutter. He didn't mind it so much. It always felt good to take the concern off of himself.

Finally, after the hubba-baloo ended, the coffee cleaned, and the employees clocked out, Troy left the diner. He thought a little fresh air and a walk home might do him some kind of good, especially after the drama that morning. But two seconds after exiting his worst nightmare, a friendly face appeared beside him, completely instep.

"Hey Amy," he said with a smile.

"Hey yourself." Troy chuckled.

"What's up?" he asked, as they crossed the dark street.

"Well, I was just wondering if you were doing anything tonight?" she said, eyes lit and a smile spilling over her lips. Troy shrugged.

"Oh, the same as always: microwave dinner, re-runs, and then maybe a cold bubble bath to top it all off," he joked. Amy laughed a little harder than intended, bringing a rare smile to Troy's face. "Why? What did you have in mind?"

"Oh, I-I..." Amy's face suddenly twisted in embarrassment and the color rose to her cheeks. "Um, well, I just ... would you like to have dinner with me?"

Amy's question and intent were as clear as day. But Troy was completely oblivious to it. So he carried on as if nothing unusual had just occured.

"Have dinner with you, eh? What—are we going out now?" he said with a smile. Amy's eyes softened dramatically, and she stopped short, so that Troy, shocked, back-tracked.

"Troy...," she sighed shakily. "I can't pretend to do this anymore."

"What are you talking...?"

"I think I'm in love with you. ...An-And I have to know if you feel the same."

_Whoa_. Troy was utterly flabbergasted. Where did that come from? When-when had this happened? He thought for sure they were just friends. How did this slip past him? Oh, god, there was no way this would end peacefully—especially when he felt nothing romantic toward her. Troy hung his head low and shook it, despite the consequences it would bring.

"Wh-what does that m-mean?" she said, chin quivering.

"I'm sorry, Amy. I don't like you in that way," he said as gently as he could. "All I wanted was friendship, honest to God—and if I led you on in _any_ way, I am so sor—"

Amy stopped him with a loud sniffle.

"No, no, don't even worry about it. I shouldn't have said anything. It was stupid of me." She tried to smile, but the tears washed it away mercilessly. With that dead weigth left to hang in the air, Amy turned on her heel and walked away.

Another layer of guilt and sorrow dropped on Troy's shoulders.

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**So was it everything you expected? Or did I completely throw you off-track there? :) Please, please review and tell me what you think!!**

**-BeautifulDanger**


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